


I hear the walls repeating the falling of our feet (it sounds like drumming)

by SiwgrGalon



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Alec Lightwood Deserves Nice Things, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Asmodeus' Legacy, Descending into hell once again, Greek Myths, Insecurity, M/M, Magnus Bane Deserves Nice Things, Mind Games, Mythology - Freeform, Post-Canon, Protective Magnus Bane, post-3B
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-16
Updated: 2020-05-16
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:08:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,910
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24216427
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SiwgrGalon/pseuds/SiwgrGalon
Summary: For all intents and purposes, stealing his husband off the face of the earth is a surefire way to summon one Magnus Bane. Even if it is for nothing more than a mind game.But he is here now, the stakes – Alexander's life – are high, and the only way out is long, winding, and on foot.And just this once, Magnus Bane has to play by the rules or lose everything.
Relationships: Magnus Bane/Alec Lightwood
Comments: 4
Kudos: 46





	I hear the walls repeating the falling of our feet (it sounds like drumming)

**Author's Note:**

> The usual disclaimer: The show's timeline was ridiculous and I refuse to accept it. So if you read something and think 'that must have taken longer than on the show', rest assured it's me making up a more realistic timeline. 
> 
> I've also taken some liberties in terms of runes and hellscapes. You'll see when we get there, but basically the realm referenced doesn't lie quite as deep as Edom, hence why some things might not 100% align with the show.

_The dog you really got to dread  
Is the one that howls inside your head  
It's him whose howling drives men mad  
And a mind to its undoing_

It is, Magnus has to admit, a deceptively simple but shockingly efficient trap.

For all intents and purposes, stealing his husband off the face of the earth might not be elegant, but it definitely managed to not only get the warlock's attention but command his immediate attendance too.

Oh, Magnus thinks, but the cleverest bit was how whoever stole him got Alexander in the first place.

Lure a squad of Shadowhunters out and, when you don't see the one you're after, raise more and stronger demons so the half-angels call in reinforcements. Then, wait for them to complete the mission and simply snatch the object of your desire from right underneath their noses.

All that had been left were his bow and a single arrow, the red fletching an almost taunting contrast to the grey-on-grey of their concrete surroundings.

The fire message reading 'I've got something of yours' - reeking of sulfur and the sickly sweet-tart smell of ichor - had arrived in his loft a second before Jace had called, setting into motion the chain of events that led Magnus here.

Starting, of course, with sending a bedraggled, confused squadron of the Angel's finest home before comforting a distraught sister and even worse-off parabatai. The loss of Clary is still so fresh, seeing the other half of his soul vanish into thin air after a successfully completed mission had sent Jace reeling.

'I cannot lose him too, Magnus,' he had begged, eyes wide in panic, as soon as the other Shadowhunters had stepped into a blindly conjured portal.

And Jace Wayland-Lightwood-Herondale-whatshisnamethisweek never begs. That alone would've been enough to spur Magnus into action - because as rocky as their start may have been, the Shadowhunter has grown on him, independently of the fact that he also carries a part of what is most precious to the warlock in his soul.

'Magnus, I can't. Please. There has to be something you, something we can do.'

Except there's no way they can help, not without Clary and her rune. Telling them, however, didn't go quite as well.

'So what, we're just supposed to sit here and wait?'

Izzy uncrosses her arms to rest her hands on her hips, looking so much like her brother that Magnus can't hold in a little chuckle.

Lightwoods - beautiful as the angels they were bred from, stubborn as the mules that probably once carried their ancestors. How's that for an alternative family motto?

'I am afraid so,' Magnus says.

'This was addressed to me and oozes demonic energy. I'm not risking any of you coming with me if I don't know where I'll end up.'

He sees Jace opening his mouth to protest, but Magnus is faster.

'I know, he's your parabatai and that makes this three times as hard,' the warlock starts, bending down to pick up the lonesome arrow and pass the bow on to Izzy for safekeeping.

He can't help but carefully run his fingers over the shaft, from tip to fletching, to buy himself a second or two.

'But I can't risk you,' Magnus continues.

'Any of you. What I need you to do is hold down the fort, manage the institute, and ensure the team you were with doesn't get the Clave involved, okay? The last thing we need is your big bosses trying to meddle in something they have nothing to do with.'

For a tense moment Magnus things they'll object, but then Jace seems to physically crumble as he nods.

'Okay,' the Shadowhunter starts, swallowing hard as if he has something lodged in his throat.

'But?'

'Nothing,' Jace continues, slowly.

'I just... I can't feel him, not really, and it freaks me out. It's... is this what he felt like after Lake Lyn?'

'Oh, no,' Izzy interrupts, stepping into her brother's personal space before his thoughts can spiral any further.

'We are so not going there right now. In fact, the only place the two of us are going is back to the Institute, where we'll call mom, and we'll let Magnus do his thing and get Alec back in the meantime, alright?'

The answering nod is surprisingly docile. Magnus moves to clap Jace on the shoulder, cupping the joint as he looks Jace straight in the eye.

'I'll do everything in my power to get him back,' he says, conjuring a portal behind the two siblings and another one behind himself.

And as he watches the two Shadowhunters step into their direct line home, clinging to each other as if entering a lion's den, Magnus gets his own travel plans in order.

His portal is quite a bit more intricate; he has to go on tracking, after all.

Twirling the arrow, he feels for Alec's energy and casts his net. There's a tingle at the back of his mind in, of all places, Central Park. But it's too faint to be anything solid, which means his husband has probably been literally whisked away to another world.

If the Seelies have stolen Alexander, Magnus may well just bang his head against something hard. Repeatedly. The last thing he is in the mood for is some weird mind game that only ever ends in broken hearts.

He reaches for the fire message in his pocket, unfolding the parchment and letting his magic out to play. This one is an instant his so, cradling the arrow and the message close to himself, Magnus takes a deep breath and steps into the unknown depths of the portal.

oOoOoOoOoOo

When he emerges on the other side, he finds himself in a desert wasteland, dusty and sunbeaten, with the remnants of some sort of civilization visible on the horizon.

The arrow in his hand, meanwhile, slowly crumbles before his eyes, joining the sand surrounding him.

Fantastic. Another realm of hell, then. This one, thankfully, not quite as far away as Edom had been if the ease of travel is anything to go by.

But of course his father's legacy would continue to follow him. Magnus is under no impression that this is somehow, directly, linked to the fact that his home dimension is no longer - and that he carries her united power, now.

He's had three quiet months with his new husband, so life apparently felt the need to throw a spanner in the works.

Can't have the pair of them get bored.

It takes Magnus a second to get his bearings, cast a glance over his surroundings and catch sight of the castle he, apparently, arrived almost right in front of.

How convenient, and how absolutely fucking indicative.

Still, he has to admit the ruler's seat, a bone-white replica of Edom's royal residence, is a distinct step up from his father's. There is no burning hellscape surrounding it, so its spires shine in the gleaming sunlight, undamaged and proud.

There's no reason to delay the inevitable, so Magnus steels himself and steps into the palace.

It doesn't take him long to find the throne room, or whatever you might want to call it.

'Ah, Magnus Bane,' a voice rings out before he can even set his foot onto the cool marble tiles.

'It took you much longer than anticipated. I thought your little plaything being in deadly danger would expedite your arrival.'

Even without catching full sight of him just yet, Magnus would know that voice anywhere.

'Belial,' he acknowledges the demon, stepping into the room and crossing it in quick strides to come face to face with his summoner of sorts.

'Normally I'm the one doing the summoning, and this is so deeply amateurish it's an insult.'

Handsome as he ever was - tall and slender, with richly tan skin and a carefully kept mop of curls - Belial could be an angel, if it weren't for the leathery wings Magnus knows are hiding below his sharply cut suit.

'And yet you came,' the demon drawls, a smirk lighting up his face.

With a gesture of his hand, two guards step out of the shadows, guiding Alexander between them.

Magnus is relieved to see him generally unharmed, if you discount the fact that he is being kept in an environment generally hostile towards his body.

Under his skin, Magnus' magic buzzes to life. He's so distracted by the sight of his husband, his arms shackled and a defiant look on his face, that he almost forgets to reign his power in. He can feel it baying to reach out and encase the Shadowhunter in layers and layers of protective spellwork, strong enough to bid them time.

But Magnus holds back. For now. He's determined not to show a reaction that would betray exactly how vulnerable he feels.

He's not that stupid.

Still, the warlock can't help take in Alexander, who looks almost docile as he stands there, shackled and guarded. It's a front, Magnus knows; under the surface, the young man is ready to pounce at any moment. Magnus has seen it in action, this clever deception which is so unlike his deeply honest husband.

'What do you want, Belial?'

'Oh, I just wanted to see you,' the demon drawls lazily.

'Just to... check in, after the whole "sending your father into limbo and destroying your rightful kingdom"-situation. It can't have been easy, I thought, and I wanted to know what my cousin - or should that be nephew? I never know, Magnus, our relations are so complicated - was up to.'

Magnus only raises an eyebrow.

'Is that so?'

'Of course. What, do you think I would ignore our family ties?'

Belial looks at him, from top to bottom, and steps closer to Alexander.

'And I had to get you here, but I knew you wouldn't come without the right motivation... so stealing your boyfriend sounded like the perfect plan.'

The demon chuckles, reaching out to run a finger along Alec's jaw. A shiver shakes the Shadowhunter's body, but otherwise he doesn't react.

'Little did I know,' Belial's voice turns sweet, then, almost sickly as it practically drips with joy, 'that he would be so delicious.'

For a horrifying second, Magnus' mind brings up all the ways in which Belial could have violated Alexander, but the demon drones on as if he isn't even aware of the implication.

'He carries so much guilt, Magnus - I know we don't talk much...'

'That's an understatement,' the warlock cuts in, scoffing.

'And I increasingly know why.'

An annoyed twitch runs across his opponent's face, but then he shrugs it off as if to physically get rid of the thinly veiled insult.

'We don't talk much,' Belial continues.

'But how could you keep such a gift from me? Oh, Magnus, he's so full of guilt and it is _intoxicating_. And it just got so much better when you stepped in, as if you are the cause of his guilt.'

'That's enough.'

Alec sounds hoarse, the atmosphere probably already wreaking havoc on his body, but he still sounds every bit the leader.

In his surprise, Belial snaps his mouth shut with an audible click.

'I do think Alexander is quite right,' Magnus agrees, using his opportunity to press onwards.

'I'm here. You've seen me. I'm in very good spirits, thank you very much; Edom's energy is in good hands, and no, you cannot have any of it if that was going to be your next question.

'Now, if you could let my husband go so we can make our way back topside, that'd be great.'

Magnus realizes his mistake as soon as he says the word husband, as a dangerous glint flashes in Belial's eyes.

'Husband? Is that so?'

He looks calculating as he turns towards Alexander, slowly walking a circle around him as if appraising cattle.

'And I'd love to just let you go, but I fear that that's not possible.'

Cold dread settles in Magnus' stomach.

'What do you mean? Are you aware that I could pulverize this entire dimension without much effort?'

'Oh, believe me Magnus, I am,' Belial replies, coming back to stand in front of him.

'But you can't do that as long as he,' he points towards Alexander, 'is here. So I'm afraid I can't let you take the easy way out.'

'What do you mean?'

'See it as a test,' the demon says, fake benevolence coloring his voice.

'Or maybe a confirmation of the sweet, sweet promise of eternal love you made. If you want to leave, you'll have to walk.'

With another motion of his hand, the guards unlock the shackles around Alexander's wrists, pushing him towards Magnus.

The warlock catches his partner as he stumbles, his magic settling as soon as they are standing side by side.

'Alright then,' Alec joins back in, reaching out to grasp Magnus' hand. He is warmer to the touch, a surefire sign that the demonic energy is getting to him, so Magnus gives the fingers cradling his a reassuring squeeze.

'We'll walk.'

But before they can turn, Belial laughs.

'Oh, no, pretty boy, it's not that easy.'

Magnus bristles at the endearment. Nobody gets to call Alexander that, except him, and especially not in such a patronizing tone of voice.

'If you want to get out of here, you won't walk next to each other. You'll walk behind each other, at a distance of six foot. No touching. No talking. You'll have to rely on him following you. If you turn around, that's it - your other half stays in this realm forever more.'

The mocking words knock the air out of Magnus' lungs. A fucking mind game, of course.

He should've known that this would take a cruel turn when he came face to face with Belial - he is the demon of guilt and lies, after all.

Besides him, Alexander appears much more composed. Always the soldier, he gives a sharp nod.

'Well, then we'll do that. Show us the way and we'll go.'

At this, Belial has the audacity to cluck his tongue.

'Aren't you sweet? Willing to take the lead and everything? But no, you, my darling Shadowhunter, will walk in back.'

Ice shoots through Magnus' veins.

'How am I supposed to keep an eye on him?' he bursts out, balling his fists and taking an involuntary step forward.

'How will I know that you're not setting us up on the wrong way, so this realm can slowly kill Alexander while I'm unaware?'

He feels Alexander's muscles tense, from the fingers still linked with Magnus' to the sudden rigidness of his spine; the chance of death is clearly something he hadn't considered.

'You may cast a protective spell,' Belial agrees.

'But no funny business, Magnus. Any attempt to deceive me now, and the deal is off. This is your way out. Take it or leave it, but your precious angel's time is slowly running out.'

Magnus takes a deep breath, then, turning towards Alexander as his hands already reach out to weave magic. He knows the spell will off, probably quicker than intended due to the demonic atmosphere around it, but he weaves it tight and good.

To finish it off, he pulls the Shadowhunter in, pressing a chaste kiss to his lips.

If this goes wrong, he would at least like a goodbye.

'Alright, cut the romantic drama,' the demon interrupts.

'Magnus in front. Shadowhunter following like an obedient puppy. Surely you have nothing to fear, right? From what I understand, all this guilt he carries is so historic it should long have been resolved... so you should have no doubt whatsoever about whether he'll follow.'

With that, he snaps and suddenly Magnus knows the way, feels the draw.

'Now, chop chop,' Belial taunts as he folds himself into an elaborate throne which, on closer inspection, seems to be made of human bones.

Magnus hopes there are some ribs or vertebrae poking this particular demon in uncomfortable places.

'You know the way, and I'm bored.'

Another scoff is all the answer Magnus dignifies him with, turning towards the exit. He's unwilling to break his connection to Alexander just yet, wants to hold on for as long as he still can.

'Oh, and Magnus? Remember, no touching. And no turning around. You'll have to trust him,' Belial gleefully shouts.

Neither man sees the demon casually flick his wrist to send a fire message on the way.

'Don't let him get into your head,' Alexander whispers as they arrive at the doors that will start their fate.

'I'll be right behind you. He's just playing games.'

Magnus feels as if he doesn't deserve this show of trust, but he bravely nods.

'I know,' he whispers back, squeezing his husband's hand one last time.

Then, he breaks the connection and steps out and onto the way home.

The game is on.

oOoOoOoOoOo

The walk doesn't tire Magnus as much as he thought it would, what with having to trod through sand, but it's the dust that gets to him first.

It's everywhere. His hairs, his clothes, his eyes; he's rubbed them repeatedly, to the point where they itch on their own accord.

Still, Magnus prevails.

But the way also allows him time to think. Normally the warlock doesn't mind being alone with his thoughts - that's how he came up with the idea of creating portals, after all.

In this situation, though, he's not alone, because his mind always circles back to the same thing: Alexander.

Beautiful, generous, sarcastic, stubborn Alexander who appears to be so incredibly battle-hardened but it so soft and affectionate underneath his leather jacket.

Alexander, who seems to still hold onto the guilt of... well, everything, Magnus assumes. The deal with Asmodeus, most recently. The Soul Sword, definitely. And probably Jocelyn's death, too, even if nobody but Alec himself ever held the young man responsible for that.

And, if Magnus knows his husband at all, probably the fact that he had to almost force Magnus into giving up Lorenzo's magic, too.

So the small seed of doubt Belial so carefully planted starts to grab hold and grow, bringing up all the ways Magnus subconsciously feels he may have failed Alexander.

There's a list, really, a long one, and his brain runs through every single point.

Maybe he shouldn't have almost forced the Shadowhunter to come out (it was a gentle nudge, Magnus, nothing more).

Maybe he shouldn't have been so harsh about the Soul Sword and left him alone by his critically ill brother's bedside (you were both hurt, and leaders have to make hard decisions for their people).

Maybe he shouldn't have hidden how much losing his magic hurt for so long (you were terrified of what that might mean, while still recovering from nearly seeing Alexander die).

Maybe he should have been clearer in stressing that, even without his magic, Alexander was always enough. (But was he? Would he have made up for the loss of magic, of raw power no longer running in Magnus' veins?)

It festers and grows, but Magnus trods on. He has long given up on trying to fully clear his eyes, so he squints against the gleaming sun and relies on his magic to lead the way.

And as much as he wants, he steadfastly, resolutely, refuses to check on his husband.

Would he turn around, Magnus would see Alexander struggle along, exhaustion written on his face like a cruel joke of a love letter as he obediently follows.

But the warlock doesn't.

So he doesn't see Alexander stumble. Doesn't hear the occasional faint, labored hitch of his breath, or the way he gently runs his nails over the speed rune on the soft skin of his inner forearm as if to soothe a persistent itch. (It doesn't help. The spell is wearing off, the pain from his runes starting to burn up, preparing to _burn out_ is slowly flaring up, and there's nothing he can do.)

He doesn't see Alec refuse to give up, doesn't see the faint layer of sweat breaking out on his face, doesn't feel hazel eyes stubbornly boring into the space between the warlock's shoulder blades as if they're the only thing holding his tall Shadowhunter up.

So they plod on, slowly but surely, through the desert wasteland, a demon sun mercilessly beating down on their bodies.

A gentle breeze picks up, blowing up sand and dust, further slowing their ascent from literal hell.

It does nothing to placate Magnus' nerves or conscience, which are starting to fray with ever more doubts and guilt creeping in.

Realistically, he knows it is feeding Belial's power and satisfying him on a base level. But the bastard could've chosen anything else than a twisted game that puts a life at risk.

Of course, this is all about dominance. If Magnus fails, he'll never forgive himself because he will have doomed Alexander to life - however short it may be - in the Underworld.

How could the Shadowhunter trust him? He knows Magnus has issues, to put it mildly, and yet he stayed through all of it, loyal and loving.

What if this makes him realize how much work it has always been?

What if he realizes his sacrifices - which now eat him up with guilt - have never been worth it?

What if he resents Magnus for this? It's a silly idea, the warlock thinks, but most people of their ilk - Shadowhunters and Downworlders alike - don't get to see hell even just once in their lifetime. Alexander, on the other hand, has been put through the ordeal twice, and it was all because of Magnus.

 _No, once was **for** you,_ a quiet voice in the back of his mind, which sounds incredibly accurately like Ragnor, helpfully provides. 

_He came to Edom because he loves you._

Despite Ragnor's usual snarky undertone, it helps calm Magnus' nerves.

The breeze picks up further; they must be close to the end, Magnus thinks, and this must be one last desperate try to make them fail.

He struggles through the now sizable sandstorm, using his arm to shield his face and leaning his body. It's noisy, too, the howling wind drowning out the volume of his thoughts as much as their surroundings.

Until a scream cuts through.

And he knows that sound, knows the voice so intimately that it makes a chill run through Magnus' insides as the warlock freezes.

A second of silence, then, again.

'Magnus!'

It's Alexander. Magnus' breath speeds up as he waits, what for he is unsure. A confirmation that his beloved is in tricky waters? A sign that it's all another figment of his imagination?

'Magnus!!'

Again. More urgent this time. But he can't turn around and check, he can't, he can't, he'll literally curse Alec if he does.

But what if he needs him? What if something or the other is attacking him, unprotected as he is by runes or weapons?

'Mag...'

The garbled scream is never finished.

That's it. The straw that breaks the camel's back. One too many. If this is what it's supposed to be, Magnus will return to Belial's dimension himself and burn the whole lot down, if that's what it takes.

He stops, briefly wondering when his legs started moving again, and makes to turn around.

But before his chin can cross his shoulder line, Magnus finds himself unceremoniously sucked into a portal, the sound of Alexander screaming his name ringing in his ears.


End file.
